


tree

by CrazyPrepared (writerofberk)



Series: have yourself a merry little christmas [1]
Category: Trolls (Movies 2016 2020)
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Gen, Minor Branch/Queen Poppy (Trolls), we are once again ignoring The Beat Goes On and Trolls World Tour
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-12
Updated: 2020-12-12
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:35:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28031724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writerofberk/pseuds/CrazyPrepared
Summary: The first snow falls the same as it always has, and the tree stands, in the center of the village, the same as it always does, but the world couldn't be more different now.
Relationships: Branch & Queen Poppy (Trolls)
Series: have yourself a merry little christmas [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2053290
Comments: 18
Kudos: 18
Collections: Best Broppy, Top Shelf Broppy





	tree

The first snow falls early, and it falls the same as it always does, the same as it always has—thick, lacy white flakes fluttering down, soft and slow, from slate-grey skies, their sharp angles shining and flashing in a sun that sets too soon, and the whole world goes quiet, sound asleep under the weight of winter—and the tree stands the same as it always does, the same as it always has, proud and tall in the center of town, sparkling crystals clinging in bunches to its dark green needles, with the heavy, sweet scent of pine on its thick boughs and the wide ring of yellow-white candles already flickering merrily at its base.

It's all the same as it always is.

But the world is _so_ _different_ now.

The snow still falls the same, and the tree still stands the same, with a hundred thousand glowbugs nestled in its boughs, lighting it up from the inside out, but this time, for the first time in nineteen years, Branch is here to see it again, and he can't believe it, he can't believe he's here, he can't believe he's wanted here—he can't believe how Poppy beamed at him when she saw him, how she rushed over to him and wrapped her arms around him tight enough to crack a rib, how she said _I_ _can't believe_ _you're here, I can't believe you're finally here_ , and how he said _good to know you had_ _so much faith in me_ because he couldn't say _neither can_ _I_.

He can't believe he's out here. He can't believe he's not shut up all alone in the cold, quiet dark of the bunker, curled into a ball on the freezing dirt floor with his eyes screwed shut and his hands over his ears so he can't hear the shouts and cheers and singing and laughter from the village, so he can't hear how _happy_ they are, so he can't hear it and think _what's wrong with me, what's wrong with me, why am I like this, why the hell am I like this_ —?

No. Branch really can't believe he's out here, with everybody else, doing all the things everybody else is doing—opening boxes, hanging ornaments, singing carols, he can't believe he's doing this, he can't believe he's doing something so _normal_.

He can't believe he's allowed to do this.

He can't believe he's been given the chance to do this.

He can't believe the real world hasn't already come to slap him in the face and snatch this day away from him, pushed him back down into the cold, quiet dark of his bunker and told him to stay there this time because that's where he belongs, in the cold and the quiet and the dark, that's the only place he'll ever belong, that's the only place he should ever be, and _alone_ is the only _thing_ he should ever be.

He can't believe he has something this _good_ , and the world hasn't ripped it away from him.

Poppy's already headfirst in the nearest open box of clinking-clanking-jingling-jangling ornaments and, when Branch looks around, he can see other trolls doing the same, digging excitedly through crates filled to the brim with bright baubles—plastic candy canes and paper snowflakes, cardboard stars and fuzzy, flashy strands of red-and-gold tinsel.

" _It's the most wonderful_ _time_ _of_ _the_ _year_!" Poppy sings, like she's having the time of her life in that dark, dusty box, and not inhaling her own carbon dioxide at a rapid and undoubtedly unhealthy rate.

No one in the Snack Pack turns around to pull her out or check on her. They don't even stop singing.

" _With the_ _kids jingle-belling and everyone telling you be of good cheer_!"

"She's going to suffocate in there," Branch says, to the Pack, who can't even hear him over the song, so he leans in and locks a hand around Poppy's elbow instead, tugging lightly on her arm. "You're going to suffocate in there."

Poppy bounces back up out of the box and shoots him a bright grin (that makes his stomach lurch), smoothing down her frizzy pink hair with the flat of her hand. "Oh, come on! Where's your sense of adventure, my man?"

Branch lets go of her. "Collapsing from oxygen deprivation is _not_ an 'adventure', Poppy."

"— _parties for_ _hosting, marshmallows for toasting_ —"

"Not with that attitude!" Poppy laughs. She brushes a few stray flakes of snow off the front of her dress before she pushes herself to her feet with a small, sparkly ceramic rainbow, hanging on a thick tinsel string, clutched in her hand.

"Not with _any_ attitude."

"— _and_ _caroling out in the snow_ —"

Poppy waves him off. "Come on!" She grabs his hand up in her own (his skin tingles where she's touching him and a flush burns in his face) and holds up the glitzy rainbow. "Let's find a spot for this!"

"Do we have to?" Branch says.

But he lets her lead him around to the other side of the tree, and he points out a bare bough, already dusted with snow and hanging half an inch over her head and he smiles when she slides her little ceramic rainbow onto the branch, where it swings lightly back and forth in the cold wind.

He looks out at the tree, with the candles all around it and the glowbugs nestled inside it, at all the trolls singing and dancing and laughing, at the whole town so bright and happy, and he can't believe that he has something _this good_.

**Author's Note:**

> AHHH okay okay so first off, it's confirmed in canon that the trolls don't celebrate Christmas, and that it only snows one day a year in Troll Village, but consider: I'm ignoring pretty much everything except Trolls 1 and Trolls Holiday. Canon is a sandbox, and I'm making a snow angel.
> 
> this is meant to be the first of twelve fics all showing Branch's first Christmas with his colors back, so (if all goes well!!) there will be eleven more before Christmas!!


End file.
